Reverse Psychology
by Atuliel
Summary: AH. Set in Season 6. Buffy tires of Willow's new evil ways and tries something different.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ creators and writers.

* * *

"And there's no one in the world who has the power to stop me now," Willow said, with that sort of satisfaction Buffy was only used to hearing from her enemies.

Then again, Willow wasn't exactly her friend anymore, either.

Buffy pushed herself up off the floor, exhausted and sore from the fight. She hadn't really realized before this that Willow could beat her if she wanted to. She wasn't the super girl anymore. With this sudden comprehension came a…relief. Unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Willow glared at her as Buffy stood there, taking in deep breaths.

"You just don't give up, do you?" Willow snarled, smirking. "So that's why you're so attracted to Spike. You just love a beating. Well, here, have a little more to get off on for later." She lifted her hands and blasted the wall with magic.

Buffy leapt to the side and waited for the witch's next move, now in front of the door. Willow glowered at her.

"Out of my way," she said, in that low voice she'd suddenly acquired over the past few hours.

The Slayer could tell Willow was trying to use magic on her, but it wasn't working. Both of them glanced toward Anya, but she was still lying there, unconscious. Their eyes met again, both shining with sudden interest.

"All right. I'll admit—"

"Shut _up_, Willow," Buffy snapped, surprising even herself.

The witch's eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed. "_What_?" she snipped.

"I said, shut up," the Slayer repeated, putting on her 'tough bitch' face as ire filled her. "I am so sick of being talked at by you evil villains. All you do is just blab on and on about things. Even when you're about to die, you have something to say."

"W—"

"Well, you know what?" she said viciously. "It's my turn to talk. Willow, you're dumb. You're a menace. First you were a loser, and now you're just pathetic. Look at you, selfish as always. Oz leaves and you can only focus on your pain. Tara goes crazy and you have to go off and do something stupid even though I told you not to. Tara dies and you go evil and start killing everybody. Jeez, and people call _me_ vapid."

As Buffy gained momentum, Willow gained anger. She was breathing very quickly, like a steam engine that had completely lost control. But Buffy was too angry to stop there.

"But you know what? You were right, earlier. I _hate_ it here," she snapped. "Everything is so violent and fast and wild. It's not at all like heaven. Of course, you don't need to know anything about that, since you're going straight to hell. You know what I hate most of all, though? You. You have to screw everything up and make everything complicated. You're a freeloader. You're a magic addict. You're…whatever. Everything you do just messes things up more. You used to be afraid to get the attention. Now you crave it.

"Congratulations, Willow. Now everybody has to pay attention to you, because you brought me back from the dead, because you couldn't handle Tara's death. Now we have to focus on you, because you're so talented and because you won't let anyone else deal with their own grief. If you, for once, just stopped and thought about things logically when something like this happened, maybe you would have realized that everyone would be here for you. Vengeance doesn't solve anything. Anya could tell you that. You are so stupid. I don't even want to see you anymore. I don't want to see anyone here anymore. Just kill me, Willow. Undo what you did. Kill me."

Buffy had been advancing slowly, and now stood inches away from her old best friend, eyes shining with a rage that was startling even to the evil witch. They were so concentrated on one another that they hadn't even noticed Anya crawl across the floor to the book and move to a new hiding place.

"_Kill me_," Buffy spat again.

Willow blasted her with magic and Buffy slammed against the door, but she simply got up again.

"I said, 'kill me' not hurt me," she taunted. "What? Can't you do it? Love me too much, Will?"

Willow blasted her again and it dented the door this time. Buffy started laughing almost maniacally as she got to her feet again.

"You killed Warren and Rack," she continued. "Why not me? It's just as easy. All it takes is a thought, a flick of your wrist. You've proved you can bring me back. Can you kill me?"

"Don't test me," Willow bit out.

Buffy laughed again. "Life isn't a test, Willow. This is reality. You can't play with life, even with magic, even if you're as powerful as you are."

"You think I don't know that?" she snipped.

"No. I know you don't," the Slayer said firmly, advancing again. "Now kill me."

Anya sat behind the stack of books, listening to Buffy goad the evil witch. _What the hell is she doing?_ she kept thinking. She took a chance and glanced through the books. The Slayer was walking steadily toward Willow, who was building up her magic once more. She frantically looked up the spell again, convinced that Willow would kill Buffy.

* * *

I backed up a couple of steps as Buffy came charging toward me. She was raising such painful memories and strong feelings in me that it was hard to focus. The darkness strangling my grief-stricken mind was at its peak. I struggled to see past the anger fogging over my senses, but to no avail. She was a Buffy I'd never seen before. She was cruel.

"Look at you," she sneered, "you can't even be evil right."

As she hauled back for a punch, my mind wandered back to six years ago.

* * *

"I've known him my whole life, Buffy," I whimpered, the pain of Xander's rejection thrumming through me like lightning.

She gazed at me sadly, listening.

"Well, we haven't always been close, but he's never…." I let out a breath, trying not to let the tears start coming.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Buffy ventured.

"Or maybe there's something wrong with me," I said, looking away.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, skeptical.

"C'mon," I said stiffly, scowling as my jealousy of her peeked out. "He's not picking on you. He's just sniffing you a lot. I don't know, maybe three isn't company anymore."

"You think this has something to do with me?" she inquired, hurt.

"Of course," I affirmed, regardless.

"No. That doesn't explain why he's hanging out with the dode patrol," she insisted, hopping off the railing. "Something's going on. Something weird." She started to leave me, and I felt a pang of regret at having been so ruthless.

"What're you gonna do?" I asked.

She turned toward me, sympathy still in her eyes. "Talk to the expert on weird."

Even then, she was supportive of me, even when she knew she had to get something done. She always has to get things done. She's the Slayer.

* * *

I took the punch in the nose and staggered backward, blocking the next hit to my gut, and shoving her backward. She did a roundhouse kick and hit me in the face, sending me backward again.

This time, we both came at each other and I grabbed her fist before it hit me, then punched her twice in the face. She took them both and raised her leg, kicking me in the stomach so I shot backward across the room.

Pulling up using magic, I stood and punched her in the face as she ran toward me. She merely took it and smiled at me.

"That's it, Willow," she encouraged, lifting her chin. "Hit me."

Appalled and enraged at her insolence, I punched her in the face and then in the stomach and she stood steadily. I jumped up and did an out-to-in crescent kick, a move I'd seen her perform thousands of times, sending her to the ground. She kick-flipped off the ground and sent a backhanded fist into my jaw.

"What's wrong, Will?" Buffy taunted me. "Getting tired? Come on." She motioned for me to come to her with her index finger.

I took two long steps forward and punched her with two right hooks and a left.

"Stop hitting me and just kill me!" she practically screamed.

It pained me, somewhere deep inside. The darkness tried to smother that small bit of love and sadness trying to peek out. Not only did she hate me, but now she wanted to die. And it was my fault. I hit her again.

"Kill me!" she shouted as she came back up from it.

* * *

I ran into the girls' locker room, where Buffy was still changing. The look of surprise on Buffy's face didn't stop me, however, and I started doing the combination on my locker.

"Whoa! You're the Late Girl," she commented, shocked.

"I overslept," I explained quickly.

"Till fifth period?" she asked skeptically. Then she turned scowl-y on me. "Talkin' to Malcolm last night?"

"Yeah." I looked at that face that was so serious and upset. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shrugging.

"You're having an expression," I told her, in our old teasing sort of way.

"I'm not," Buffy replied, not reacting the way I'd hoped she would. "But if I was, it'd be saying, 'This just isn't like you.'"

I scowled. She just didn't understand. "Not like me to have a boyfriend?"

"He's boyfriendly?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I don't understand why you don't want me to have this," I said, confused and resentful again. "I mean, boys don't chase me around all the time. I thought you'd be happy for me."

"I just want you to be sure," she continued, her obvious concern doing nothing to soothe me. "To meet him face to face. In daylight, in a crowded place with some friends. Y'know, before you become all…obsessive."

"Malcolm and I really care about each other," I insisted. "Big deal if I blow off a couple classes."

"I thought you said you overslept," she said, quick to catch my mistake.

"Malcolm said you wouldn't understand," I retorted, scowling.

"Malcolm was right," she returned just as quickly.

Her concern for me was making her stubborn. I didn't want to listen. She was right, in the end, of course, but she didn't even gloat.

* * *

I jump-kicked her in the stomach and she fell back into the rubble we'd created. I tried blasting her with magic, but it didn't work. I glanced around for Anya, enraged. She was nowhere in sight. I came to Buffy as she was getting up and grabbed her by the arm and leg, flinging her into the shelves behind the counter.

She leapt up and over the counter again and came at me with both feet, knocking me to the ground. She kicked me in the gut over and over, then picked me up by the lapels of my jacket. There was blood flowing from my nose, making it itch.

"Stop fooling around, Willow," Buffy snarled. "You know how to kill me. Do it!"

She threw me across the room and the pain tore through my bones as I slammed into the wall and slid to the ground. I made my way to my feet and brushed off, glaring at her. I was surprised to find her smiling at me like she used to: soft and sweet and warm.

"Come on, Will," she said softly.

* * *

As Buffy stepped up onto the stage, I watched her, confused. The Slayer was describing everything I had figured she was feeling. But why was she feeling these things? She was alive and well again, back among us.

"_There was no pain_," she sang as she turned to the demon. "_No fear, no doubt, till they pulled me out of heaven_."

Horror filled me as she turned toward us, eyes filled with agony.

"_So that's my refrain_," she continued. "_I live in Hell, 'cause I've been expelled from heaven. I think I was in heaven_."

I wanted her to stop singing now. I wanted it to stop. Rewind it all and make it not happen. I had pulled my best friend out of heaven. She lied. She wasn't in Hell. I hadn't saved her. I had ruined her peaceful slumber. A lump thickened my throat as I stared up at Buffy.

* * *

I attacked her wildly, anger and pain pushing me on in waves. I was using all I had to get at her, rage the power behind it all. Buffy blocked and punched in return, egging me on but also trying to get me angry. Before, it had taken some effort for her to keep going; now she seemed serene and relaxed.

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Xander shrugged his shoulders, refusing to look at her. "I have no idea."

"What?" Dawn snapped, eyes wide.

He glanced at her, glowering. "I don't know, okay? I can't even run away well. And that's something I'm usually good at."

The teenager was subdued, for the moment, as they continued striding down the sidewalk.

"Maybe we should go back and help," she suggested.

"Yeah, 'cause I've been such a big help already," he grumped. "Standing around like a monkey while Buffy gets shot, Tara's dead…and Willow…losing…."

Dawn glared up at him. "Well, feeling sorry for yourself isn't helping either, Xander, okay?"

Xander gritted his teeth and continued walking, lengthening his stride a bit. They were all so screwed up now. Giles leaving had been…no, it went further back. He didn't know how far back anymore. Buffy being brought back…Giles leaving…those had been major turning points, but they were only part of how they'd come to this state.

"You know, if Spike were here, he'd go back and fight," Dawn remarked slyly.

He stiffened just at the mention of the name. "Sure, if he wasn't too busy trying to rape your sister."

He heard Dawn's step halt, but he just kept moving, ignoring her.

"What?"

"Forget it," he returned, shaking his head.

"I don't believe you," she said shakily, hurrying to catch up.

"Fine."

"He wouldn't do that."

"Is this blind spot like a genetic trait in Summers women?" Xander snarled. "The only useful thing Spike ever did was leave town."

"That's not true!" Dawn practically screeched. "He fought side by side with Buffy, and she trusts him."

He snorted. "Not likely."

The teen had nothing she could say to that, so she pouted sullenly for a while.

"Well, in any case," she tried again, tossing her head. "He wouldn't sit around feeling sorry for himself while Buffy is back there fighting with her best friend." She strode past him quickly, arms folded.

Xander stopped, suddenly realizing that, yes, other people were in pain. He really didn't know what he'd do without Willow and Buffy. And he was about to lose them to each other.

* * *

"Worthless piece of shit!" I screamed in agony, punching her uselessly.

She just took everything I had, sometimes not even bothering to block my most useless attempts. There was no aim for anything, now. I was just trying to fight her off, even though it seemed like I was more on the offense than anything. She had provoked something in me, some realization that the darkness was trying to dim down again.

A cloud of confusion surrounded me. The grief, the pain, the hatred was all fighting the love that rose for Buffy when she staggered to the ground and stood again, utter despair filling her green eyes.

"Kill me," she said roughly.

* * *

"It's not my fault you decided to lie," Buffy said lowly, looking away.

I blinked and stared at her. "I was just saying th-that Ford wouldn't be dead if—"

"If I hadn't left him in there?" she asked, staring at me. "He wanted to die. So I left him behind and let the rest of them go. It's not my fault he chose what he did. And it's not my fault you decided to go all cloak and dagger along with Angel."

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did. You lied to me," she replied stiffly, the pain in her eyes and tone filtering through to my core.

"It's not like you haven't lied before!" I said lamely. "And-and I promised Angel."

"Because you're such good friends?" she said sardonically.

"He was trying to pro—"

"Protect me?" She scoffed. "I'm the Slayer. I can deal. If you give me the information I need, when I need it."

"I know, Buffy. I just didn't want…you were so happy with him," I defended, trying to catch her eyes again as she closed off.

I could feel her putting up her guard, feel her shutting down, even without the visual of her shifting on the window ledge and staring at the street below. I almost reached for her, but instead bit my lower lip.

"Buffy…I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I—"

"Leave me alone," she said, so softly I almost didn't catch it.

I stared at her, stung. In all the time we'd been friends, she'd never told me to go away. It hurt.

"Buffy—"

"Go away," Buffy reiterated, but her voice was so harsh I knew she was covering up tears.

I frowned, sitting next to her quietly. She didn't say anything and I didn't disturb her. It was almost as if I wasn't really there. I watched her in the silence as she stared out into the rainy day, cuddled up in her thick wool throw.

Mrs. Summers finally mounted the stairs with the drinks. I wouldn't have known, normally, but it was just that silent.

Buffy's mom came in and smiled brightly.

"Here you go, Willow," she said kindly, handing me my Tab. "Buffy?"

The Slayer looked up at her slowly.

"You just wanted tea?" Mrs. Summers asked gently, as though she were speaking to a wild animal.

Buffy swallowed and nodded, taking the cup in her hands carefully.

"I'll leave you two alone now," Joyce said after Buffy took a slow sip.

She retreated, and Buffy went back to being completely silent.

"Giles'll feel betrayed," I said cheerfully, gesturing to her cup.

There was no response.

"Buffy, please, don't do this," I begged, unable to hold out any longer. "I'm so, so sorry that I lied to you. I didn't want to, but Angel made me promise. And I know he's not really a friend, but a promise is a promise. I thought it was best to listen to someone older…wiser. I thought maybe he knew better than we did. And I'm sorry. I won't lie anymore. Please, just talk to me."

The fact that I was close to tears was probably the only thing that got Buffy to turn her head. She attempted sternness in her gaze, but only smiled weakly and gathered me close to her. I snuggled into the warmth she offered, comforted as she pet my hair while I let the tears roll down my cheeks.

"It's okay, Willow," she whispered, low enough where I knew she was trying not to let me hear. "I forgive you. I'll always forgive you."

* * *

I had really lost her. The shock of this realization left me unguarded and unprepared for the sidekick she performed on me. I felt my back impact and crack the walls. The structure of the building was getting weaker, I reflected somewhere in the cobweb of thoughts. I stood and coughed heavily, staring at the Slayer.

I didn't think it was possible. Because we were best friends. Because she was mine and I was hers. Because boyfriends, Watchers, demons: they come and go. But best friends are forever. How was it possible that I had lost mine? Was she someone else's now? How had it happened? I could remember no defining moment. No warning. No trumpets and flags and parades telling me something was going to happen. Just suddenly—wham.

_She hates me. And it can't be fixed. Because she won't forgive me this time._

When Xander and Jesse were with me, but not really; when Xander didn't realize I existed; when Malcolm nearly killed me; when Angel was evil and my relationship with Oz was new; when I was becoming a witch; when my relationships with Xander and Oz were changing; when Oz left me; when I fell for Tara; when Tara lost it; when Tara left me; when I lost control; all those times, through all of that, Buffy was there. And she would have been there if I had let her be now.

What would life be like without Buffy there? She had gone twice from me, in the devastating sense, but she came back. She always came back. And I always knew she still loved me. But if she hated me…. How could I stand it if the one person who had always forgiven me, been there for me, put up with me…? How could I stand it? Even Tara wouldn't remain in the roughest times.

"Kill me!" Buffy screamed, shaking me from my reverie.

I could feel the blood running down my lips and chin. I was pretty sure my nose was broken, but that wasn't the worst of everything. The worst was that I realized just how much I needed my friendship with Buffy and a surge of that love and affection had begun to overwhelm the black pit of despair that was my mind.

"Kill me!" she repeated.

I flung magic at her without thinking, and she fell flat to the floor. And apparently Anya had given up, because it worked. She just got back up, brushed herself off, and glowered at me.

"Why can't you do it, Will?" she snarled. "Why won't you do it?"

I heard the bell of the door ringing and looked away from the Slayer. Xander and Dawn flung themselves inside and froze, staring at the ruin that was the Magic Shop. Buffy was advancing on me. It was only when she was an arm's length away that she stopped and stared at me, breathing heavily through her nostrils.

Gazing at her pleadingly, I leaned back on my heels.

"KILL ME!" she shouted sharply.

Dawn gasped.

I drew back my fist and threw in a last-ditch effort with the evil that had consumed me. _Why can't I do it? Why can't I just kill her? She wants it, why can't I do it?_ The love that was fighting to rise up above the evil in me screamed for attention. Buffy sneered at me after I had punched her fruitlessly.

"You make me sick," the Slayer snarled, unbelievably callous.

All at once, I found myself bawling at Buffy's feet, body aching with pain. The love I felt for my friends overpowered the sickening evil filling my soul and I poured it out in black tears that seemed to sting even the floor below me. I heard Xander, Dawn, and Anya shuffling, but it stopped all at once and I only saw the shoes that had been kicking me previous to my breakdown moving into my vision. Buffy sank down to her knees next to me and placed her hand on my shoulder.

Shuddering at the kind touch, I bent down on my hands and knees and crawled closer to her, begging for forgiveness under my breath. And then I was in her warm embrace and she kissed my forehead, rocking me back and forth as though I were just a child. I felt like one as Buffy pet my hair and held me close to her heart as I cried against her.

"I love you, Will, I do," Buffy assured me quickly—and I found myself believing her, even though only moments ago she'd professed her undying hatred. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about Tara and about everything. I love you, I promise."

I rubbed my face into her shoulder and cried out into her shirt as hard as I could. Lifting my head slowly, I saw Giles standing in the doorway, but I couldn't muster up any surprise. Buffy looked at him and she froze for a moment before gathering me closer and looking away.

"Y-y-you're no-not…g-gonna le-leave?" I choked out, grasping Buffy tightly.

"No, I'm not gonna leave you," she swore softly, cradling me against her. "I won't ever leave you. We're gonna beat this thing. You're gonna be okay. I promise."

I closed my eyes and squeezed her. "You f-forgive me?"

"Didn't I tell you I always would?" she murmured.

Giles had bent down next to her and he rubbed Buffy's arm. Something passed between them, wordless, but there. And all at once, I felt safe and warm and loved as my friends all gathered around me and tried to help ease my pain. I was home and safe from pain and harm, there in their arms.


End file.
